


Perfect Time

by Yolashillinia



Series: Elizabeth Cousland [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Sex, canon-divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolashillinia/pseuds/Yolashillinia
Summary: Elizabeth Cousland steps down as Commander of the Grey to live life to the fullest. Relationships, babies, and the Call of the Grey Wardens. Written 2016.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland, implied Alistair/Morrigan (Dragon Age) - Relationship
Series: Elizabeth Cousland [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894156
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Hiroyuki Sawano song [Perfect Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Jr6pMhXbks), which has a really solid aesthetic and the name Elizabeth in it.
> 
> Begins about 10 years after [The Woman With a Dragon's Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600998/chapters/64857838) (DA:A). I never played DA:I, and I never finished DA2, so I don't know what 'really' happens in-canon around this time period.

Part 1

Antiva City was the strangest, most exotic city she’d ever been to. Considering she’d been outside of Ferelden exactly never, this was hardly surprising. She’d been expecting things to be different from home, but… not this different. The climate was hot, humid, and her clothes clung to her skin under her ironbark armour. The sun was brighter, the sky bluer, the sea in the harbour milder. The crowds were more brightly dressed, dazzling and shimmering before her eyes; the buildings whiter and taller and festooned with greenery, wide arches letting the wind blow through the hot city.

And the noise. She’d thought the crowds were bad in Denerim, but it was nothing compared to here. It was autumn, and harvest was coming in, and the raucous rumble of conversation, of merchants selling their wares, of children running and shrieking, it was fit to deafen her. And there was constantly music coming from somewhere, with street musicians everywhere, competing for attention and coins.

She knew she stood out like a Qunari among dwarves, in her elven armour and Fereldan helm, her enchanted sword Starfang hanging at her side. She didn’t mind; she knew to watch her back, and anyone trying to shank her in the street would have a difficult time of it for various reasons. Besides, it wasn’t common cutthroats who occupied her attention. And for her purposes, she wanted to stand out.

Normally one tried to avoid the Crows and their attention, whether favourable or unfavourable, even in other countries. Certainly one did not want to track them down in their home territory. But she was. Alone, to boot. Most people in the world would call it foolish, if not downright suicidal.

Not that it was easy. She was acting on a spare lead that Leliana, now Spymaster of the Inquisition, had thrown her on the rare occasion she wasn’t busy, for old times’ sake. That woman had grown strong and confident, like Elizabeth herself had grown.

She’d even tried to recruit Elizabeth to the Inquisition, but for once, she’d turned Leliana down. She’d given of herself wholly to the Wardens these last ten years, and she needed to do this for herself before she lost any more time; if she got sucked in to a new cause, she’d never get out again. Leliana had strong allies. The Inquisition could deal with Corypheus without her.

She could smell many conflicting things; food and piss and flowers and tar and the strong scent of tanners’ workshops. She smirked a little to herself. “I should have known. He always was sentimental.”

She turned right into the Rusty Rake tavern and marched straight up to the counter, her teyrn swagger in full force.

The tavernkeep blinked at her. “E bene, what can I get for you, signora?”

“Information. I’m looking for the Crows.”

The tavernkeep tried not to react, but she caught a hesitation, a slight tremble in his hands. “I can’t help you with that, signora.”

“I think you can,” she said. “I have reason to believe they’re not unaware of my presence here in Antiva. I just need to meet them. Specifically, I’d like to meet the Grandmaster.”

Now he definitely looked frightened. “Signora, no one meets the Grandmaster and lives.” So he did know where they were to be found. Leliana’s clue had been good.

“I’ll live,” she said. And if she didn’t, she hardly cared anymore. “Just point me in their direction.”

“No need,” said another voice, and the waitress stepped from behind the counter, her eyes cool and wary. “I’ll take you.”

“Giselle-”

“There will be no danger,” the woman said, with a sly smile. “As she said, we know who she is. This way, signora.”

“Thank you,” she said, although this was definitely a trap. That smile told her as much.

She followed the woman down a hallway, down into the cellar of the tavern, through a tunnel into another cellar, poorly lit. It was much quieter down here, and she could hear several people in the darkness. “If you’re planning to dispose of me here, don’t bother. I mean no harm, I only want to talk, but I will defend myself if you attack me.”

“You think you can fool the Crows?” the woman asked coldly. “Using a foreigner to assassinate our master is nothing new. It would be a shame to kill someone of your confidence, Commander of the Grey, but pride goes before a fall, as you Fereldans say.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Why, how did you know?”

“You are incredibly unsubtle,” the woman said, and behind her, Elizabeth heard the whisper of a knife and soft footsteps. She had a moment more to listen to her monologue, though. “You knew exactly where to go to find us, the main cell; you come armed, and in armour, with the heraldry of your order emblazoned on your shield, and you don’t even pretend otherwise. But your unsubtlety is incredibly stupid. You came alone. No one will know what happened to you. You won’t be missed.”

Elizabeth jumped sideways, spinning with her shield in her hand, and it connected with the head of the man sneaking up on her. “I beg to differ. Now, is that the way in? Excuse me, I have a long-overdue conversation ahead of me.” She jumped for the door, wrenched it open, rolled under the attacks of the guards, and ran down the hall, followed by shrieks of outrage. They’d be training crossbows on her if they had any sense, and she ran fast, trying to outrun them if possible.

She came to a main corridor, full of people, people who stared and drew weapons. She couldn’t lose her momentum now; she was a brawler, not an assassin, so her best asset was to bull through them all, heedless of sharp pointy objects, and through those double doors ahead of her.

She crashed through, into a hall filled with golden light from high windows, with galleries on either side. Several figures stood at the high end, but she only had eyes for one – the one in black leather, with the mask of a giant crow skull covering his eyes. At the commotion, they all turned, and he raised the mask to see her better. Her breath caught for the briefest of moments – he was even more beautiful than she remembered. But seeing him only reignited her wrath. “ _Zevran Arainai!_ ” she bellowed.

He laughed abruptly. “Liz, Liz, my darling Liz. Stand down, my friends.”

The assassins at her heels stopped short, tense and with raised weapons, but she didn’t. He watched her warily. Her heart pounding within her, she stomped right up to him, drew back her right fist, and punched him square in the face. His head snapped back and he fell to the floor on his backside.

There was a clatter as every other person in the room lunged towards her; crossbows were raised from the galleries. She dropped into a crouch, ready to fight for her life. What would he do? Would he attack her?

“Hold!” Zevran climbed dazedly back to his feet, holding out a hand for stillness, and the assassins obeyed. “It’s all right. I deserved that.”

“You most certainly did,” Elizabeth snapped. She hadn’t missed that among the people Zevran had been talking to was a very pretty young lady with dark skin, shining black hair, and liquid black eyes. Probably the woman wasn’t at all connected to Zevran in that way but she wasn’t in a mood to be calm. “How long were you going to wait?”

“How long were _you_ going to wait?” he countered. “You didn’t have to wait for an invitation, did you?”

“Maybe I did! I’ve been busy as Commander!”

“And I’ve been busy as Grandmaster.”

“You said you would return!” she shouted, eyes sparking.

He lowered his gaze a little. “I did, didn’t I? And I am sorry. But come, let’s discuss this more in private.”

“But Grandmaster, letting an outsider-”

Zevran raised a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Liz.” His minions still seemed confused, but Zevran did not stop to explain, and she followed him.

Alone, he led her down a corridor at the back of the hall, across a courtyard, and into what seemed like a residential complex. He chose a door, seemingly at random, and walked in; she closed it firmly behind her. The room was small and plain, with only a bed and a desk and a coatrack, on which he casually hung his crow skull mask. The window was barred and shuttered, and only a little of the strong sunlight outside glowed through into the room, bathing it in a rather eerie light.

Now that they were alone, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Her anger still smouldered, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him in a long time. Things had slowly spiralled down into distance and disconnection for both of them, until at some point about three years previous, the letters had stopped entirely.

He seemed wary again, the sardonic smile on his face that masked whatever he was truly feeling and thinking. “Well, now we are alone. Would you like to talk, or would you like to murder me?”

“I can do the latter after the former, can’t I?” she grumbled, and her temper flared again. “Ten years. Ten years you’ve been gone! Do you know how long a Grey Warden’s lifespan is?”

“How long?” he asked cautiously, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant answer.

The answer wasn’t pleasant from her point of view. “Not long! Thirty years after my Joining, give or take. Probably take. If you wanted a relationship with me, time is running out. I thought you knew that! You didn’t even write for years! I don’t even know if we still have a relationship! How could you!?”

“I’m sorry that managing a Thedas-wide assassin organization takes all of my time and attention,” he answered sarcastically. “And why didn’t you get the bright idea of coming to visit sooner? It’s unfair to blame me for every part of our mess, mi amor. All you were doing was sitting in cushy little Amaranthine, weren’t you?”

Her chest heaved, her hands balled into fists. She’d already pointed out that he’d promised to return, and he’d acknowledged she was right. She couldn’t bring up that point again. And other than that, she had nothing to base her fury on. “You know how hard I work, don’t tell me about Amaranthine. Or I suppose you don’t know, since we were only together for a year. You don’t know me! And I don’t know you! How do I know you haven’t been flirting with every woman to cross your path? Like that beautiful woman back there?”

“Flirt with them, yes, sleep with them, no,” he snapped, his own expression darkening. “Which woman? I’ve been true to you, whatever _you’ve_ been up to with _Nathaniel_ and _Alistair_.”

“Nathaniel and Alistair have nothing to do with anything,” she growled. “I was faithful too! But for what point? I thought I loved you, even though I want to kill you right now. Do you love me?”

His amber eyes were serious. “I truly cared for you then, you know that, Elizabeth. But maybe you’re right. It’s been ten years. We’ve both changed. I want to love you-”

“Then prove it,” she snarled, stepping forward into his personal space.

“ _You_ prove it,” he answered, smirking, a challenging sneer that twisted his face and made him oh-so-ridiculously sexy.

For a moment, she hesitated, shades of the reserved girl she had once been slowing her decisions. _Fine. She hadn’t come this far to not prove it_. She reached out with both hands, grabbed his face, and smashed her lips into his.

She hadn’t kissed or been kissed in years, and the half-forgotten sensation hit her in the heart like an arrow, exploding through her body in a sheer wave of _want_. There wasn’t anything of love in it; it was rough, aggressive, even violent – their teeth clacked together at least once, jarring and horrible. She didn’t care. All that mattered was she was back in Zevran’s arms, and he was the only one she trusted with her entire being, and she’d been away from him for too long, and she _needed_ him _now_. His breath on her face, the low growl building in his throat, his strong arms clutching at her waist, all of it was reminder of what she’d been missing for so long she almost didn’t notice how desperately she craved it.

They fell onto the bed, somehow enough of their clothes loosened that he could plunge into her, and she flung her head back, crying out at the welcome intrusion. Their joining was hard and fast and she hadn’t had this in _forever_ and _oh Maker_ it _felt_ so _good_ –

She screamed as she came, overly sensitive from the long dearth of stimulation. It took her a while to recover herself, panting and moaning and writhing in the aftermath. She hardly noticed what he did, only concerned with wringing every last bit of pleasure from the sensation.

When she was able to focus again, Zevran looked equally overwhelmed, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened. They hadn’t even gotten their armour off, and now she really was sweating underneath it. “So… that just happened.”

“That’s one way to duel,” she agreed, the teeth of her emotions pulled, and he chuckled.

“You did kill me, for I have died a ‘little death’,” he said. “Well. My dear, here we are, in Antiva, and the past is behind us and can’t be changed. Shall we start anew, and make the most of the time we have left together?”

She frowned. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “As well as we can. Not even I think it will happen instantly. But…” He trailed off, and his hand went to cup her cheek, and there was a deep yearning in his eyes. “I’ve missed you, mi amor. I kept my word to you. There is no one else in my life.” A slight smile, that did nothing to change the yearning. “Though your jealousy is heartwarming.”

If she’d been younger, with the thinner skin she’d used to have, she would have blushed; instead, she only turned her gaze away, grumbling. “It shouldn’t be.” He laughed and leaned in for a kiss, a sweeter kiss. Her eyes were apologetic as they parted. “I missed you too. I wish I’d come to find you sooner.”

“How did you find me so quickly, anyway? Is my security that bad that a simple Grey Warden can march in within three days of arriving?”

“Leliana sent me a tip. And I don’t think your security has trained with the dwarves and the Dalish. So you did know I was in Amaranthine.”

“I did. I wanted to see what you would do to find me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Testing me?”

“I just wanted to be sure you weren’t going to give up easily.”

“Playing hard to get? Zevran, I crossed the ocean for the first time for you. I’d fight another Blight for you. I’m not going home so easily. I think you were just shy.”

He smiled. “Perhaps.” She began pulling off her armour. “Want to go again?”

“Yes, but not yet. I’m just hot. Is it always this hot in Antiva?”

“I’m afraid so. But please, allow me to help.”

So she let him, his deftly gentle hands bereaving her of her swordbelt, hanging it beside his mask; her gloves, one finger at a time; her boots, kneeling at her feet; her ironbark plates, even her tunic and pants, until she was in her underthings, every touch caressing her, his lips paying homage to each new piece of exposed pale scarred skin. Even though she was still sweating, she shivered, with desire again, longing to have those strong arms around her again. And he let her do the same for him, pulling at buckles and black leather straps, tracing tattoos with her fingertips, threading her fingers through his golden hair. It was longer now, still pulled back, but down to his shoulderblades instead of just brushing his shoulders. Hers was pinned into the two braided buns it always was, and he unpinned them, casting the pins carelessly to the floor and undoing the bindings. She’d make him pick them up later.

She hadn’t planned on sex again immediately, but his kisses on her mouth, her throat, her shoulders, her cleavage, weakened her resolve. Her dark hair, down to her waist again, shot with silver, fanned out around her as he laid her down, spreading her legs and sliding back into her, tenderly now. And she opened herself to him, embracing him with all her heart, all her passion for him flooding through her, memories and feelings washing over her until she thought her heart would burst. She reached up and kissed him, pouring her desperate passionate longing into it, trying to show him her true feelings that she couldn’t in any other way. And when he released her from the kiss, her head fell back and she whined with the unbearably sweet torture she was undergoing, her back arching in pleasure.

“You still trust me,” he said, panting, as they came down from their high together.

“You still trust _me_ ,” she countered. “Does that mean we can love each other again, despite how we’ve changed in the last ten years?” That was all she wanted. All she had come here for. They’d had something once, and she wanted it again. Was that so bad?

His gaze was tender, and his voice was like music to her ears. “You haven’t truly changed, Liz. Matured, deepened, grown, but you’re still the same compassionate, stubborn, determined Liz who knocked me down and set me on my feet again. And I… you are still the most precious person in the world to me.”

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re still insufferable and cocksure and smug… and patient, and generous, and I adore you, your smile, your wit, your light. You are beautiful to me and I love you, I love you with all my heart…” He kissed her again.

“So what now?” he asked, gazing into her eyes as they lay side by side, one arm draped loosely over her waist. They’d had moments like this, long ago, some of the fondest memories of her life. “Will you be going back to Ferelden, now that you’ve found me, made sure I’ve been faithful?”

She shook her head a little. “No. Nathaniel is Commander of the Grey of Ferelden now. I have no pressing reason to return. I… I was hoping I could stay with you.”

“I would like that. But it won’t be easy, or safe. I have many enemies.”

“I guessed you might. I’m not afraid. I want to work.”

“A Grey Warden, become an assassin?” His eyes danced wickedly.

She shrugged with her eyes. “It would not be my first choice, but why should I turn my nose up at the work _you_ do? And I refuse to be idle, set on a pedestal to be kept safe. I want to work.”

“I think I can manage something. A woman of your talents, skills, and experience would be most welcome under normal circumstances, let alone the consort of the Grandmaster.”

“Consort?” she asked, amused. “Is this actually your room? It doesn’t seem a room fit for the title of Grandmaster.”

“No, I don’t have a room of my own. Many of the Crows sleep in this building, and I pick a different room every night. Lessens the chances of successful assassinations.”

“How tiresome,” she said lightly. “Would I be allowed to share your randomly determined room?”

“My dear, I insist upon it. I wouldn’t trust you anywhere else.” He pulled her closer, gently, and began to kiss her throat and collarbone, his fingers tangling in her hair. She gasped and arched into him.

“Again!?” She was not surprised, only amused.

“I’ve been starved, this last decade. You can’t blame me.” His grin was wicked. “Besides, you want it as badly as I do.”

She did.


	2. Part 2

Part 2

Life as the Consort of the Grandmaster of the Crows was not terrible, as it turned out, and two years later she was still alive and living in Antiva with her beloved. She’d taken to wearing local fashions, feminine but as practical as she could find, but she refused to style her hair in the Antivan way, or to wear loads of glitzy jewellry, and Zevran laughed and said that was all right.

Elra had joined her, continuing to serve her faithfully, although she found her new duties strange and confusing and foreign among so all these Antivan assassins. But she’d gotten over her fear of them surprisingly quickly.

Zevran took his responsibility as Grandmaster very seriously, extremely seriously, and she could see now how he had not wanted to take even a short vacation to come visit her. He seemed to have forgotten in some ways the carpe diem hedonism he’d had a decade ago. Quickie in the closet, yes, drink and sleep the night away, no. He was essentially a second King of Antiva, lurking in the shadows behind the figurehead ruling King and the more prominent, powerful merchant princes, shaping the nation the way he saw fit, keeping the delicate balance of power in favour of a stable country. And she helped him; running Amaranthine had left her with a great deal of experience in that regard.

That didn’t mean he still didn’t have time to fuss over her, and she, now that she was not the one in charge of everything, took the opportunity to fuss over him in turn, affectionately teasing him – and making sure he stayed safe and healthy. And she enjoyed how he would sometimes sneak out and check in on his underlings, often surprising them half out of their skin at the shock that the Grandmaster himself was talking to them. Oh, he was still wild and wicked and daring, but in a focused, controlled way. And that made him even more attractive to her.

She was surprised, herself, at how well she fit into his world, and how well the Crows in her immediate vicinity accepted her presence, her influence on their master, even though she still felt like an outsider. Even the beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes, Mirella, she became friends with. She would ever be a Fereldan Grey Warden, never an Antivan Crow. But they were loyal, and Zevran repaid their loyalty – he would not make the same mistakes his masters had made with him. So she hardly ever saw attempts on her life; any outside interference was taken care of long before it reached her.

She made no real attempt to join the Antivan Grey Wardens. That wasn’t a priority for her anymore. Certainly, she went to the Warden headquarters and made a few friends among them, but she mostly kept to Zevran’s side.

And most importantly, they were happy together. They sparred together frequently, on the training ground, in the political arena… in bed. They had their share of arguments, more even than before, but their love had blossomed once again into something strong and beautiful, and they never began or ended the day without a smile to each other. Being with him was a joy, and in his own happiness, his wit sparkled brighter than ever, making her laugh, although he could no longer make her blush – often.

It was her second summer in Antiva, and the weather was miserably hot. It could have been her imagination, but it seemed hotter than it had the previous summer, and it was affecting her worse than it ever had before. She often found she couldn’t stand for long periods of time without becoming nauseous, and the smell of the tanneries also made her sick. So much so, that she moved to a second Crow location across the city, hoping it would abate.

It did not; in fact, as the days went on, she felt worse and worse, and she had no idea why. She wanted to hide it, didn’t like the line that appeared between Zevran’s brows when she had a problem, but if she did hide it, he would be disappointed and hurt and the line would be worse.

He was very concerned, as she knew he would be. “My darling, have you considered going to a healer? I don’t recognize if this is some sort of sickness, but I feel fine, so I haven’t caught it…? All the more reason to find out why it affects you.”

“I thought it would pass on its own, dearest,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to go to a healer.” She’d always been reasonably healthy; the only time she needed a healer was to get a battle-wound stitched up, and this was nothing of the sort.

“Please go. I know a good man, a trustworthy man. He’ll find out what’s wrong.”

The healer turned out to be a surfacer dwarf, an elderly brother of the Chantry with large spectacles balanced on the tip of his nose. He looked at Elizabeth all over, poking magnifying things at her eyes and ears and peering into her mouth. He listened to her heart, her breathing, examined at her blood, her sweat, anything that could be measured and evaluated. It was all very strange.

If anything, Zevran was more anxious than Elizabeth was, since she didn’t feel _that_ bad. He couldn’t sit still, fidgeting and pacing until Elizabeth wanted to scream at him. Brother Daumantas bore it all with infinite patience.

At last he put down his stethoscope. They waited impatiently for him to speak. “Well, my dear, it seems quite clear to me. You are not sick or poisoned.” He steepled his fingers. “You are pregnant. Perhaps for the last three months.”

Elizabeth laughed shortly in disbelief. “Impossible. I’m a Grey Warden.” And she was thirty, too old for children anyway. Zevran had frozen, looking like he’d just been struck in the head with a large mallet.

“And what does that have to do with anything?” Brother Daumantas asked, looking at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Certainly, it does take more patience, and more… ahem… diligence, but it is far from impossible.” Even in his stunned state, Zevran managed to grin at the implications. They _had_ been making love on a _very_ frequent basis.

She stared, and when she spoke, her voice was very small. “I was told that Wardens were infertile.” She certainly couldn’t have told from her period. She hadn’t had it in six months, pregnant or not, and that had been normal ever since she’d become a Warden; it came irregularly, two or three times a year, two weeks of debilitating pain and black blood, and the rest of the time she didn’t have to deal with it.

“They have reduced fertility, yes. Not completely infertile. I’ve known one or two who have borne children. Even at such a late year as you.”

She couldn’t believe it still. The things the doctor was telling her did not match up to her reality in any shape or form. Her, pregnant? To be a mother? She couldn’t think of those words in relation to herself.

But it was true, wasn’t it? It was true! She sprang to her feet, a wave of irrational anger sweeping over her. “Alistair Theirin, I’m going to kill you!” It was all his fault! He’d told her she was infertile! Even if he hadn’t known all the facts, deprived of senior Grey Warden guidance… it was his fault!

Zevran laughed, catching at her arms. “Now that’s my Liz! You’re not dying. Everything’s fine!”

“Like hell it is!” she exclaimed. “I’m not prepared for this! How am I going to fight?”

“You don’t have to fight when you’re pregnant, darling. Not in Antiva.”

“What if I have to? Is maternity armour a thing? Maternity armour is now a thing and I need some.” Even as she spoke, long-buried hopes and dreams surged up within her. To have a child, even one precious child, was something she’d long wondered about. But she did not feel anymore she would make a good mother. She’d been a soldier too long, an administrator, too far removed from the love of her own mother or even of Wynne’s warm support. Was she up to this? Was Zevran all right with being a father?  
And more: she was already thirty. Was she still young enough the child would be born healthy? How long did she have left? Would her child forgive her if she died before he or she reached adulthood? Would she forgive herself?

Zevran was thinking none of these things, she could tell, and she couldn’t bring herself to dim the bright joy and relief in his eyes. “Thank you, ser, for the best news ever!” He tossed an entire wallet of gold at the dwarf and dragged Elizabeth outside by the hand, hugged her, spun her around, kissed her, and laughed. “Well, that’s a relief. And so I am to be a father, am I? How odd. I never expected such a state. But it is here now, so I’ll take it on.” He hugged her close again, lovingly, protectively. “I’ll take care of you both, darling.”

“I still don’t know what to say,” she said. “I’m still… shocked.”

He squeezed her. “Give yourself time. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

She didn’t want him to give himself more stress – though she was a little jealous that none of _his_ hair had turned silver yet – but she nodded for now. Just until she’d come to terms with the situation and regained her control over it.

“We should get married,” he added. “To grant the Maker’s blessings on this child.”

She hesitated, shocked again. She knew Zevran took religion seriously enough in his own strange, roundabout way, but she’d never thought he would suggest marriage of his own accord. She had thought she would have to do it.

He peered at her anxiously. “Liz? Darling?”

“Of course, dearest,” she said finally. “I was just surprised. I agree fully.” He wanted to be the father he’d never had, didn’t he? She could let him do that. “Will you marry me, then?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “With all my heart.”

* * *

Fergus Cousland was going through his mail at breakfast when one particular letter caught his eye: a message from his sister, obviously penned in haste, he could tell just from the ink blots on the envelope. Curious, he grabbed the letter opener and cut it open.

“ _Dear Fergus_ ,” it read, “ _I am pregnant. (!!!?!?!?!)_ ”

He had to put the letter down for a few minutes, and his head on the table, before continuing. “Oh, Bethy-Beth.”

“What’s the matter?” his wife, Helen, asked.

“Apparently my sister’s pregnant.” He took a big drink to fortify himself against the rest of the letter. “She doesn’t beat around the bush with her delivery or punctuation, either. Let’s see. ‘ _This is as much a shock to me as it is to you, as I had believed I was infertile as a Grey Warden. Before you start panicking like an overprotective twit, let me assure you I am otherwise in excellent health. I’m not sure what else to say as I’m still coming to terms with this state myself. Zevran is indeed the father, and we will be married tomorrow, but I think you can blame Alistair for everything – he’s the one who told me I was infertile_.’” And the closing niceties. “Oh, Bethy-Beth.”

“What’s that mean?” asked his eldest son, Bryce.

“Auntie Beth is having a baby,” answered his younger son, Nathaniel. “She’s really surprised, because she thought she couldn’t.”

“Right you are, Nate,” Fergus answered. “I suppose it’s my solemn duty as elder brother to go murder Arainai now.”

“Isn’t he the Grandmaster of the Crows?” Helen asked anxiously. “Please don’t get yourself killed, my husband.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’m only teasing. But if he doesn’t take the best care of her, I _will_ beat him up, should he show his face round here again.”

* * *

“Letter for you, ser,” said Sergeant Maverlies, dropping an envelope on Nathaniel Howe’s desk.

“Thank you, Maverlies. Not with the regular post?”

“I think it got dropped, ser.” He opened it.

“ _Dear Nathaniel, I thought you’d like to know that somehow, against all odds and good sense, I am pregnant. (!!!?!?!?) Yes, with Zevran’s child. I can’t imagine how it could be anyone else’s. He’s very excited, and I’m just… stunned. We’re getting married tomorrow, which is in some ways long overdue and in some ways far too sudden, not that much will change afterwards. I think. But I can now warn you that what I told you at your Joining is not quite true. Grey Wardens are NOT infertile, only with reduced fertility. So there’s hope for you and Velanna yet. If she ever returns, foolish woman. And it may mean doom for Oghren. As for Alistair, you should let him know that I WILL MURDER HIM for giving me this shock because HE is the one who told me I COULDN’T HAVE BABIES EVER. Also possibly because being pregnant makes me more irritable than usual (nausea, huzzah) and I might just murder him on principle. I hope everything is well at Vigil’s Keep, Yours truly, Elizabeth._ ”

Nathaniel began to grin from ear to ear. “Oh, Elizabeth. Can you find Alistair, please?”

“At once, ser.”

Alistair came running. “What? What is it? Message from Elizabeth?”

Nathaniel held the letter out to him. “See for yourself. And then invest in some new armour. And drawers.”

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair said, and took the letter. “What? But I was sure- That’s what _I_ was told, that Wardens were infertile!” His eyes narrowed. “Of course, it wasn’t Duncan who told me. He would probably have explained it later. I suppose the others didn’t think I could handle the truth. Well, guess I’d better go educate the garrison.”

“Have fun,” Nathaniel said, grinning wickedly, and Alistair suddenly blushed as he realized what he’d volunteered for.

“On second thought-”

“No, no, I’m Commander now, and you volunteered for this solemn duty. Go to it, man.”

Alistair grinned. “But this is the most incredible news. Thanks for letting me know. We should celebrate tonight, her friends and all.”

“I agree. And I’m happy for her, too. When she talked to me about it before, she hid her feelings, but she was very melancholy about it. But it sounds like she has a lot of energy now.”

“That she does.”

* * *

She also wrote to Leliana, and received an elegant note in return. “ _Dear Elizabeth, I am so happy for you! I am beyond words. I remember how upset you were when you were told you couldn’t have children, so I’m esctatic to learn it’s not true. And to finally be married! You are truly blessed by the Maker in everything. And I am glad your handsome man is so devoted to you! Do keep me updated on your state, and I simply must know what you’re planning to name the baby, whether it’s a boy or a girl! Between the two of you and your good looks, I’m sure the little one will be the most beautiful baby in Thedas! Don’t worry about me, things are holding together over here. Just focus on your new family and how much love and light you bring into the world! All of my affection, Leliana_.”

* * *

“Alistair and Oghren are in Antiva,” Zevran told her one morning. “Come to see you, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” she sighed. It had only been a month since she’d found out about her baby, and she was already tired of the whole thing, though Elra was over the moon about it. And things were only going to get worse from now on, she had been assured. At least the nausea was beginning to abate. She was more worried about Zevran than about herself. He wasn’t sleeping well, and she knew that because she wasn’t sleeping well, but she had an excuse, and her responsibilities weren’t so heavy. He was a light sleeper, but he refused to leave her side, so they were at a bit of an impasse.

And she had five more months to get through… and then the trials of parenting truly began.

And she was looking forward to it with an eager hunger that surprised her.

“Should we meet them somewhere?”

“It would be nice,” she said cautiously.

He glanced at her with a wry smirk. “I hear tell Alistair’s armour looks rather new.”

She put her head down on the table and began to laugh hysterically.

* * *

They sent word to her old friends and went to a certain hall in Antiva City, a nice public place where the security of the Crows wouldn’t be compromised, but there could be enough Crows around to make assassination attempts impossible, and waited for Oghren and Alistair to arrive. He did not wear his mask – they weren’t here on business, and it would be better for them all if her friends were not seen to be overtly in the company of the Grandmaster.

But they were not the first ones to arrive. A woman in an elegant black and maroon gown swept up to them, a young boy in equally nice clothes behind her. “I hear I’m to offer you congratulations on several accounts, Elizabeth.”

“M-Morrigan?” Elizabeth stammered. She had thought – Morrigan had told her, when she stepped through the Eluvian, that she would never see her again. How strange that she should break her word now.

“’Tis me, yes. I see you’ve held onto the pretty fool. Managed to catch him in Chantry vows, even.” Zevran chuckled and bowed. “I hope rituals before a possibly non-existent god has deepened your relationship beyond the lust you two always exuded for each other.”

Which was Morrigan’s way of saying she wished them happiness. “Thank you, Morrigan. And that’s your son, yes?”

“This is Keiran,” Morrigan said. “Kieran, this is the woman I told you of, Elizabeth, the Grey Warden. And her husband, I suppose, Zevran.”

“Greetings,” Kieran said. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And I am pleased to make yours,” Elizabeth said.

“I as well,” Zevran said.

“Has it truly been so many years already? You are quite tall,” Elizabeth said.

Kieran nodded. “I expect my height to be above average when I reach my full stature.”

Zevran turned to Morrigan. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you of all people here. I didn’t even know, and there’s little that gets by me in Antiva.”

“Surely even I can take a break from meddling in the fate of Thedas to see one of the few I would call friend, on the occasion that she might bring a spawn of her own into this world. Besides. I’m not wholly here to see you. I’m also here to see _him_.”

Zevran blinked, and Elizabeth blinked. It didn’t seem that Morrigan was talking about him. Then who-

“Eliza!” Oghren’s familiar hoarse roar carried well in the hall, echoing from its vaulted ceilings and turning heads. He trotted up to Elizabeth and began rubbing her belly until she whacked him. “Ow.”

“Stop that, Oghren, that’s rude and I don’t like it.”

“Since when has rude ever stopped me, Eliza? And hey, you got a kid in there, it needs greeting too! I need to let it know Uncle Oghren’s thinking about it!”

“It’s not big enough to notice, Oghren-”

Alistair was just behind him, but when he saw the two women, he stopped short. “Morri? Kieran?”

“And finally, he deigns to arrive,” Morrigan said. “I’ll let you catch up first.” She stepped to the side.

“Hello, Alistair. But since when do you call Morrigan ‘Morri’??”

Alistair grinned. “When she can’t murder me in public. Speaking of murdering…” He opened his eyes wide and sad. “You’re not actually going to kill me, are you? I swear I didn’t know.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Not if you make that face, I’m not. Did you _actually_ get new armour because of that? But I am going to slap you for all the mental trauma you put me through, both then and now.” And she did.

Alistair staggered back a pace while Oghren guffawed. “You’ve still got a beastly swordarm,” Alistair said, holding his hand-printed cheek. “I’d make a joke about the strength of pregnant women, but I’d rather not get hit again.”

“Very wise of you. I could still trounce both of you any day, so don’t you laugh too hard, Oghren.”

“She’s insisting on maternity armour,” Zevran put in.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

Oghren laughed harder than ever. “Never change, Eliza. I want to spoil your kid rotten when it pops out. Teach it the finer points of-”

“You are not teaching my child anything about women or alcohol, Oghren.”

“Thank goodness,” Alistair said. “Odds are even whether it would end up just like him, or dead. Also, Nathaniel sends his best, and so does Sigrun, and Rain and Sarah and Hannah and my Lady Ae. Now, what’s Morrigan doing here?”

“She says she came to see you. And us, but mostly you.”

“I knew she always liked me!” Oghren leered, and Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

“Not that I’m complaining – never – but I just saw her last year.” A slow smile crept over Alistair’s face. “Guess she must really have missed me.”

“As if,” Morrigan said. “I just happened to be in the area and heard that you were meeting. Decided to crash your little Fifth Blight party.”

“It is a party, isn’t it? And by the way, Zevran, pretty creepy how you knew we were here in Antiva City. Elizabeth, I think you married the Creepmaster, not the Grandmaster.” As Zevran snorted, Alistair knelt in front of Morrigan’s son. “Hi, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kiddo,” Kieran said solemnly. “Hello, father.”

“So he knows,” Zevran murmured to Elizabeth.

“Of course he knows,” Morrigan said. “There’s no harm in him knowing… even if his father is a fool.”

“A handsome fool at the very least, and you know it,” Alistair protested. “How’re your studies going, Kieran?”

“I become more proficient with time,” Kieran said. “Someday I may even surpass Mother.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Alistair said.

“It’s been… lovely to see you all,” Morrigan said. “But now we must be going.”

Alistair’s face fell. “But we only just met. We haven’t talked, none of us. Can’t we at least go to dinner together?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Alistair. You almost sound like you don’t hate me.”

“I’m not so proud as you are,” Alistair said, and there was something very sweet in his tone, that even Morrigan hesitated to turn away. And in that hesitation, Alistair stepped forward and kissed her gently. Elizabeth and the others stared in disbelief; Kieran stared with uncanny curiosity.

“You don’t hate me,” Alistair breathed, stepping back a pace.

“Oh yes, I do,” Morrigan retorted, recovering herself. “You kissed me in public, you must die now.”

“Never catch a break, do you, Alistair?” Oghren chuckled. “Wherever you go, hot women threatening to kill you.”

“I know, it’s not fair,” Zevran said. “I get all sorts of people threatening to kill me, not just attractive women – though, mostly them too. Want to trade?”

“No, thank you,” Alistair said.

“But I liked that idea you had,” Zevran continued. “We should get dinner. Come! I’m buying.”

* * *

“You really should leave Antiva City,” Zevran said again, his forehead wrinkling.

“No,” she said. “That wasn’t part of the deal. I’m not here in Antiva to be away from you, no matter my condition.”

“You can’t stay here, not anymore. Look at you!”

She put her hands on her hips. “And what do looks have to do with anything!?” Yes, she was very obviously pregnant. She could feel the baby kicking now. What did that have to do with leaving Antiva City?

“I-” Zevran stumbled over his words, trying to pick them carefully. “If someone comes after you now-”

“What, I can’t fight, just because I have a baby!?” She was bizarrely incensed by his insinuations. Her temper had been so random the last few months. She hated it, which only made her mood swings worse.

“No,” he said, very firmly. “I know you. You’re capable of fighting up until the hour you go into labour. Do not think for a minute that I think so little of you, Liz.”

“Then why should I leave you, your work, all of this!? Are you so tired of my mood swings? Because I would be and I don’t blame you, but I don’t want to leave, either!” And suddenly she felt tears welling up. Maker help her, she’d never had so little control over herself in her life, and she hated it so much.

“No, that’s not it either.” He was struggling to hold onto his own temper; she was being unfair. “Liz… darling, I don’t- I can’t lose both of you, if anything happens.”

Her mouth opened. “Oh.”

“And no, I can’t say what might happen out there, if it would be any safer than here. But you’d be less easy to find. All my best men will go with you. Mirella won’t leave your side. But when I think of what might happen, I… just can’t let that happen.” His resolve cracked, and for a moment she saw just how truly scared he was.

She was shocked. She had not thought that Zevran would ever be so afraid for her. He hadn’t been so afraid for her even when she was fighting the Archdemon. And that made her almost laugh, the idea that a baby would give him more fear than a dragon, but she didn’t laugh, because it wasn’t funny at all.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, and reached up to kiss him, to rub his ears the way he liked, to smooth the worried wrinkles in his forehead. Now she was trying not to cry again. “I’ll go. I’ll go wherever you wish. But I want you to come too.”

Now he hesitated. “But the Crows…”

“They can survive a couple months without you. Come with me, dearest. You’re wearing yourself down, worrying about me _and_ Antiva. They can take care of themselves until the baby is here.”

“It… does sound nice,” he admitted. “I… am rather tired. But not as tired as you, surely.”

“You’re not sleeping well, not eating well – did you think I didn’t notice just because I have a small person growing inside me?”

“As opposed to the other small person you’ve often had growing inside you?” he asked, his voice drier than ever, and she had to snort at his terrible joke. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice. But if it will make you happy, I’ll come.” Maybe he just didn’t want to upset her again, with his quick acquiescence, but it did make her happy. And it was a sign of their strong bond, that he would even think of taking time away from his job for her, when before he had not. Or maybe it was simply a sign of how tired he was. She couldn’t let him kill himself for her sake.

* * *

She cried out, clenching her teeth against the shooting pain, against the unstoppable contractions, and Zevran squeezed her hand harder. Her hand was going numb, and his must be the same.

But the end – or the beginning – was in sight. If only this birth would hurry up and happen. She’d faced injury and violent death ten thousand times before, and yet she’d never faced anything like this. And it went on, and on, and on, and there was no way to stop it, no way to speed it up that she knew of.

She told herself to get a grip. Women all over Thedas went through this, every day, and hardly any women had gone through the wars that she had.

But that wasn’t quite true. Not so many women had their first child at the age of thirty; not so many women were Wardens – and she just knew that some of her present trouble came from that state.

Despite her warrior’s strength and endurance, she was exhausted to the point of collapse by the time she felt release, by the time she felt Elra take the tiny body from between her legs. The bed beneath her was soaked with sweat, and maybe some blood as well, and she was desperately thirsty. She heard the baby wail, and tired as she was, felt her heart thump with anticipation. But for now she could do no more than lie there and let Zevran stroke her damp hair back from her forehead.

“Here you are, my lady,” Elra said, beaming with proud happiness for her, holding a small white bundle out to her a few minutes later. The infant was fussing, its tiny nose twitching, as she took it into her arms. She was the tiniest bit disappointed not to see pointed ears, but round human ears were a dominant trait. Its head was covered with fine dark hairs already. If it opened its eyes, what colour would they be?

“Boy or girl?” Zevran asked breathlessly.

“It’s a girl, my lord! Strong, healthy girl.”

“Girl,” she said. “It’s a girl. Our daughter. Armida.” The name they’d chosen hadn’t seemed to fit until this moment, when now it seemed the most perfect name in Thedas.

“Hello, Armida,” he said softly, his eyes shining as much as hers were.

Armida yawned and drooled on her blanket.


	3. Part 3

Part 3

He woke to the change in Liz’s breathing beside him. The room was still pitch black, in the depths of the lengthening fall night. It was raining gently outside. Though he listened, he couldn’t hear if Armida had stirred in her room beside, so it wasn’t that which had awakened her.

He heard her inhale a little shakily and turned towards her. “Liz?”

“Mmph.” She was struggling with something, and losing the struggle, so he reached out to her, drawing her against him, wrapping her in his affection.

Her heart was beating fast and there was a faint tremour in her shoulders. “Liz, darling, what is it?”

She still had to brace herself before she spoke, and he waited patiently. “I had… a nightmare.” She paused. He could guess what was coming next, but he still waited to hear her say it. It wasn’t true otherwise. “It was of an Archdemon. It’s coming for me.”

“No.” It couldn’t be coming for her. Most Blights had hundreds of years between them, the next Archdemon couldn’t have been awoken so soon.

“Not literally. But I think… this is the Call of the Grey Wardens.” Suddenly she tightened her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “That’s not fair!”

It wasn’t. It was so not fair. They’d only had a decade together, Armida was only seven, and he still hadn’t gotten his fill of light blue eyes to gaze into and sweet soft lips to kiss. And she wasn’t done living, wasn’t ready to give up all that she had earned and won, he was dead sure. “How long is it?”

“Not long. A few months, I’m told. Why is it so soon? I thought I had a few years more.” He felt hot tears on his tunic and tilted her head up, kissing her fiercely.

She responded desperately, twining herself around him, trying to meld into him, as if he gave her life by contact. If only he could, he would give her all of it.

At length, she relaxed, her energy spent for the moment, and he cradled her, caressing her as her fingers traced patterns in his hair.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. She’d known this would happen someday, and she never didn’t have a plan.

“I’m going back to Ferelden,” she said without hesitation. “I know I don’t have to. I can reach the Deep Roads from here. But I want to. To see home again. To see my friends, my brother.”

“There isn’t any way around it, is there?”

“Not that I know of. And it’s too late to begin looking now.” She looked up at him, her eyes piercing his soul even in the dark. “But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done with my life. To spend this time with you, working with you, living with you, raising our daughter… That’s far better than to have spent this long toiling in search of a remedy that probably doesn’t even exist.” She was putting a strong face on it, but he could see her despair around the edges. “Oh, I want more time! I want to grow old properly, I want to see Armida become a woman, I want to- I want- I want more time with you both!”

“I know,” he whispered, kissing her again. “Should we tell Armida?”

Now she hesitated. “I would rather not. What do you think?”

“She should know.”

“That her mother is dying? That she’ll never come back? She won’t understand, not really. She won’t believe it. And if she does…” She paused, and they could both imagine – their daughter, her rambunctious, rascally energy dimmed, her bright laughter silenced. “But it would be traitorous and cowardly not to tell her. Maybe you’re right.”

“We’ll mention it,” he said. “She knows we love her either way. And she’ll be distracted by a family journey to Ferelden.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood at least a little.

“You’re coming, too?”

“Of course.” His smile faded again and he squeezed her gently. “My darling shining Liz is not going on her last journey without her faithful assassin. No more Commanders and Grandmasters. Just a Warden and her shadow. Like how it used to be.”

He felt more tears fall from her eyes. “How can I ever love you enough, my dearest?”

“You already do, my darling.”

* * *

Armida ran the length of the ship, pointing at everything, chattering as if everyone was listening to her childish observations, and laughing with excitement. Elizabeth felt the need to intervene when she began trying to climb the rigging like the sailors. “Come away, you rascal. That’s their job.” It was nearly impossible to keep Armida from climbing things – ladders, bookshelves, trees, cracked walls. Zev was proud and called her “my little fledgeling”, though if she was being naughty it was “little monkey”. Liz was… less enthusiastic, but she didn’t discourage it entirely.

“We’re going to see your home, Mama! You’ve been away from it for a long time, right?”

“Since before you were born, sweetheart.”

“Do you miss it?”

“A little, but not so much. I have you, of course!” And her gaze drifted to Zev, and Armida’s followed, and his heart clenched at the sight of the two of them, mother and daughter, two pairs of blue eyes looking at him. Armida’s skin was a shade darker than Liz’s, her dark brown hair with no hint of silver flowing free instead of neatly pinned up, but she was an innocent young mirror of her mother. If he could capture this moment forever, he would be… well, less unhappy without Liz.

“Ferelden isn’t so exciting,” he said, coming up to kneel beside them. “It’s very muddy, especially since we’re going in winter. You’ll soon miss Antiva’s sunshine and flowers.”

“Ferelden doesn’t have sunshine?” Armida exclaimed, horrified. “How did you live?”

Liz pouted at her husband. “It’s not that bad. There’s sunshine. Sometimes.”

He smiled at her. “Mostly in your smile.”

“Flatterer.”

“But Uncle Fergus lives there, and he has two boys. I’m going to get to meet them, right? Right?”

“Right, and you’ll drive them all crazy, you scamp,” Liz said. “Be gentle with the furniture or you’ll upset Aunt Helen.”

“Yes, Mama.” And she went running off to look at something else, Elra surreptitiously following her.

“Don’t climb that!” Liz called after her.

Zev smiled and kissed her cheek. “As long as she doesn’t fall overboard, she’ll be fine. Every day I wonder if she is like you were as a child. You look so similar. And you’re both tomboys.”

“I was a great deal more serious,” she said. “She loves life more openly. My father spoiled me, like you spoil her, and he loved to laugh, and my brother loved to laugh – still does – but somehow I never quite took after them in that way. I was more like my mother, I suppose.” She was quiet, and he didn’t know what she was thinking of.

* * *

The dwarf-built walls of Vigil’s Keep rose tall and strong over them, the gates open wide. Zev looked around with interest. He’d heard all about this place, about its rebuilding and its besieging by the darkspawn, about the drama and intrigue that had swirled within its walls, but he’d never actually seen it before. It was proud and solid, a mix of dwarven engineering and Ferelden style, and he tried to ignore the feeling that he was being trapped inside.

He was never truly trapped anywhere. He was over forty and still one of the most agile Crows in the business. If he was attacked – or if Armida was attacked – he could scoop her up and get her out of there, through a window, over a wall, somehow.

But he wouldn’t be attacked here. Nate Howe was the Commander, a good friend of Liz’s, and she had many other friends here. Maybe Alistair or Oghren would be around again, or even those he’d traveled with that year after the Blight: Rain, Sarah, Hannah. It was a little strange to be relying on her reputation rather than his own for once. Being the Grandmaster brought him fewer benefits in Ferelden. But he’d lived under Liz’s protection before, the last time he was in this country.

“What do you think, fledgeling?” he asked Armida. She was so bundled up in coats and scarves and mittens that her little nose barely poked out above them, and she still complained of the cold, completely unused to these temperatures. Liz seemed to enjoy it to some extent, somehow, getting excited about the light dusting of snow on the ground. Yes, Antiva never had snow ever, but still… crazy Fereldens.

“Big!” was Armida’s pronouncement. “Also very grey. They could have painted it. Or put in more plants.”

“I’ll let Nathaniel know,” Liz said dryly. “There he is. Hello, Nathaniel!”

Nathaniel Howe was a tall man with a large nose and an attractively unkempt look, greying around the temples, with a warm smile for Liz, an adoring grin for Armida, and a friendly, curious look for Zev. Zev had one for him, as well. “Elizabeth! It’s so good to see you. When you wrote that you were coming to visit, I could hardly believe it. And so this is your daughter.” He bowed and shook Armida’s hand gently. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I’m Nathaniel.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ser Nathaniel,” Armida chirped. She remembered her manners that far, at least. “So my mama used to boss you around, right?” And there her mouth went.

Nate chuckled. “It’s entirely possible there might have been some bossing, yes.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, which only made him laugh more. “And you are Zevran. Good to meet you, at long last.”

“And you,” Zev said. “Call me Zev. May I keep calling you Nate?”

Nate winced. “If you absolutely must. I would prefer you didn’t.”

“Good, then I can really annoy you.”

“Why do you want to annoy me?” Nate muttered, confused. Truth be told, he definitely seemed someone who fit the name Nathaniel much better than Nate, now that Zev could speak to him in person. But that just meant it was a challenge.

“Why didn’t you paint the castle?” Armida demanded shrilly. “It’s so grey.”

“My lady raises an excellent question,” Nate said. “Shall we go inside and discuss it further?”

“Where’re the others?” Liz asked.

“They’re out on patrol. Don’t worry, they’re not going to miss you. They’d kill me otherwise.”

* * *

Late that evening, after Armida had been put to bed, a few of Liz’s Wardens convened in Nate’s office, what had once been Liz’s office. The mood was much less merry than it had been through the evening and at dinner. Zev leaned against the wall in a corner by the door, trying to stay out of the way. This wasn’t about him.

“I can guess why you’ve really come,” Nathaniel said, hands folded sombrely on his desk.

Liz nodded. “It’s difficult to be subtle about it.”

Sarah Amell-Tabris looked around with wide eyes. “Wait, about what? Why is everyone so quiet?”

Rain Tabris-Amell squeezed her wife’s hand, and for a minute no one spoke. No one wanted to say it out loud.

“I’m hearing my Calling,” Liz said, and Sarah’s big brown eyes opened even wider.

Alistair looked away, grimaced. “It hasn’t started for me yet. I’m just waiting now, now that you… I’d hoped…” He took a deep breath.

“Me too,” Liz said. “But that’s the hand I’ve been dealt.”

“And your daughter is so young…” Nathaniel said.

Oghren drank some more, as he’d been doing even more frequently all evening. “ _Eliza’s_ too sodding young. Look at you, you’re what, thirty?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“’Snot right. You ought to be shaking up the world another few decades.”

Liz managed a smile, especially for Alistair. “There was a time I didn’t expect to live another week. That someone would die to kill the Archdemon, and it would probably be me.” She turned her gaze to Zev, who remembered that time painfully well. They’d been so young. “I’ve come a long way since that night on the eve of the march to Denerim… I can’t complain about twenty extra years.”

“I can,” Oghren muttered. So could Zev. But he said nothing now.

“Don’t be too morose, please,” she said gently, and the dwarf lifted his head at her touch.

“Sorry, Eliza. Just can’t… can’t believe it. Won’t believe it. You’re not done yet.”

“My dreams tell me otherwise,” she said, resigned. “Too late to fight it now.”

She’d spent her whole life fighting. It seemed impossible that she wouldn’t fight this too. But she was afraid to sleep now. His brave, strong Liz sat up all hours of the night, postponing the moment when she’d have to close her eyes and face her monsters. And all he could do was hold her while she struggled in her dreams, and hope that she could feel him in the Fade.

“Does she know?” Nathaniel asked.

“Armida? She knows that I’m not well… She knows that I will leave her soon.” Liz shook her head, holding back tears. “I couldn’t bear to tell her I’m going to die. I know I ought to. I don’t know if she’s figured it out on her own.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, and she touched it with her own hand.

“This is getting too sodding sentimental,” Oghren complained gruffly, but there were tears in his own eyes. “Is it always like this when Wardens go?”

“Dunno,” Alistair said, sniffling. “All the Fereldan Wardens are so new. Elizabeth’s the first one- first one to go. I bet it is, though.”

“We went about it wrong,” Nathaniel said. “We should have kept it to the feast and not had this last- this reunion. Hannah and Sigrun had the right idea, to just go to bed. I’m sorry.”

Sarah went to throw her arms around her, but Liz put her away gently, lifting her chin the way she did when she was holding onto her pride and emotions. “Don’t be. I wanted to… to talk to you all again, without pretending that nothing’s wrong. Without avoiding this difficult conversation. Just don’t start a group hug, or I won’t be able to bear it.”

“Too late!” Alistair cried, taking it as an invitation and bear hugging her. Sarah was right behind him, and Oghren. Rain and Nathaniel were a little more reserved, reaching out to touch her arms where there was a space.

She was crying, inside that cocoon of warmth and love. There was no way she wasn’t. She was clinging to them, upset that they’d tipped her self-control, but grateful that they loved her so much.

Alistair, tears wet on his face too, looked over at him and raised an arm to invite him in. “You should join. Come on.”

Zev smiled and raised a hand in declination. “That’s all right. I can do that later. With fewer clothes involved.”

The mood instantly lightened a thousand-fold. “Good idea,” Oghren said. “Let’s do that now.”

The others broke into sniffly giggles. “Absolutely not,” Nate said sternly. “We’ve already seen you nude far too often.”

Liz finally escaped and slipped to Zev’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, my friends. The future of the Fereldan Wardens is in good hands.” For how much longer for each of those present, Wardens for twenty years or almost twenty years, no one could say. But for tonight, that didn’t matter.

* * *

Another day, another castle. This one was older and less grand than Vigil’s Keep, yet Liz’s eyes lit up even more gladly to see it, and so did her maid Elra’s. “Ah, Highever, dear sweet Highever! How well I remember you!”

“I remember walking past it once,” he said. “It was weather almost like this, too. You needed defrosting in the village inn.”

“Mm. And Huan wanted to sleep on the bed, Maker rest him.”

“Huan the dog?” Armida asked. “Can I have a dog, Papa?”

“You already have a dog, fledgeling,” he said. “At home in Antiva.” And a monkey from Seheron, and an Orlesian ferret, and a Tevinter parakeet.

“Yes, but he’s not a big brave Fereldan doggie!”

“Mabari,” Liz said. “They’re called Mabari.”

“Maybe Uncle Fergus will have some puppies,” he said, and Liz gave him the Look that said ‘ _you’re spoiling her_ ‘. “They’re said to be extremely intelligent, and loyal no matter what. If I recall well…” with a smirk at Liz, “they’re worse trouble than your monkey. You think you can handle it?”

She straightened, lifting her chin in an exaggerated imitation of her mother. “Of course I can! I’m Armida Arainai!”

“That you are, sweetheart.”

“Of course, there’s always the possibility that Uncle Fergus doesn’t currently have puppies,” Liz put in gently.

“Darling, we’re in Ferelden. There are Mabari everywhere.”

Liz rolled her eyes and gave up.

“And here’s my long-lost sister,” Fergus said, meeting them under the gate. He looked old, a lot older than Liz now. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“My apologies for deciding to start a family,” Liz retorted. “Armida, this is your Uncle Fergus.”

“Pleased to meet you, Uncle Fergus!”

“And you as well, young lady. You look even more like your mother than I’d imagined. Thank goodness. Bryce! Nate! Where are you boys?” There was the sound of scampering feet, and two boys, one of them almost a young man, appeared around the corner of the Great Hall. “And here’s my lads. Bryce, my oldest; he’s about fifteen, and Nathaniel, he’s about twelve. A little older than your girl, but – boys, here’s Cousin Armida. Go show her around, would you?”

“Yes, Father,” Bryce said, bowing. “Please come with us, Lady Armida.”

“Don’t let her climb the good furniture,” Liz warned them.

Armida ran after them with a peal of laughter, her little boots flashing in a way that told Zev the boys would have their hands full.

Fergus frowned, looking after them. “Is that- is she carrying knives on her belt? You let your seven-year-old handle knives?”

“They’re not real,” Liz assured him, and the two of them shared a significant look of some kind that he couldn’t interpret.

“Yet,” Zev put in, and Liz swatted his shoulder as he smirked.

“Fair enough, with a bloody assassin for a father,” Fergus said shooting him a look. “Now let’s go have some tea. You’re late, Helen’s been waiting.”

“What was that about?” he asked Liz quietly as they followed her brother inside.

“When Oren was about Armida’s age, he wanted a sword as a souvenir from the Blight.”

“Ah.” She didn’t have to say any more.

“Fergus… looks so much like Father used to look,” she mused.

“A little more grey in your hair and you’ll look like Mother, so don’t give me that,” Fergus called over his shoulder, and Liz pouted.

They were introduced to Helen and served tea and sat down in nice chairs by a fire.

Fergus looked very directly at Liz. “Now, us Couslands aren’t known for subtlety, so I’m just going to come out and say it. You’re here because you’re not well, aren’t you?”

Liz looked a little surprised, but she nodded calmly. “I’m dying. I don’t look it, yet, but I know it as a Grey Warden. I… wanted to see home again, to show Armida a bit of Ferelden before I go. We went all over Denerim and Amaranthine City and Vigil’s Keep already.”

Fergus’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s it? You’ve just resigned yourself to this fate?”

“This fate was my doom since I became a Warden,” she told him, nettled by his disapproval. “There’s certainly nothing I can do to change it now that I’ve already begun to feel it. Only make the most of the time I have left. To know that I’ve had a much longer and fuller life than once I ever thought I’d have.”

Fergus fixed his sister with an unimpressed look. “That’s not your true feelings. Maybe you can hide it from your husband, but you can’t hide it from me.”

“Actually, she can’t hide it from me either,” Zev put in, irritated that Fergus thought him so blind.

Liz’s shoulders rose and she snarled. “No, I’m furious, and I don’t know why or who to blame. The Blights, the Archdemons, the ancient Magisters, the Wardens?” And that was a surprise – she was rightly proud of being a Warden, hadn’t complained about being forced into the order in years. “Should I blame the Maker Himself? What made this necessary? What made this right? It’s a good thing it’s tradition to go monster hunting when it gets to this stage, because I need to _kill things_.” Helen drew back, horrified, but Liz didn’t seem to notice.

Fergus side-eyed her. “What about Zevran?”

“Blame the one who gave me something to live for? No. Never.” She reached out and gripped his hand, and he squeezed it.

Fergus sighed, some of his true feelings breaking through, making him look much more old and tired. “I always thought I’d die before you. With my recklessness being equal to yours, but your swordplay superior to mine – yes, I can admit it now – or even just someone deciding that Teyrn Cousland was doing a shit job of ruling Highever…”

“You almost did go first,” Liz said quietly. “But you returned from the dead.”

Fergus offered her a sad smile. “Then maybe you will too.”

They all knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Maybe.”

There was a crash from outside the room, and a shout. Liz started to her feet. “What is she up to now?”

In the hall outside, Armida was hanging upside down from the top of a door by her knees, brandishing her little wooden knives at her cousins. “Haha! Got you!”

“Well struck, my lady,” Nate said, while Bryce rubbed his arm with a pout.

“How did she even get up there?” Fergus muttered, while Helen gasped.

“Armida-” Liz began, then stopped. There was no need to intervene; just children playing. And the boys weren’t being rough with the younger girl. “Don’t hit them too hard. Save that for the sparring ground.”

“Assassins don’t use the sparring ground, though?” Armida said. “We strike from the shadows. Hyah!”

Zev chuckled. “Best not to yell a warcry, then. But surely you’re joking, my little monkey? Mama and I fight on the sparring ground all the time.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Come on, then.” He scooped her up around the waist and set her gently on the floor again. “Go ask your cousins to show you how to fight Fereldan style.”

“Oh, please, would you?” Armida asked, clasping her hands together.

It seems Bryce and Nate were no more immune to big blue eyes than he was, because they acquiesced startlingly quickly.

Fergus watched them. “She’s so much like you.” And Zev couldn’t tell which of them he was talking about. “She’ll be safe here while you’re away.” He looked at Zev. “I assume you’re going with her to Orzammar.”

“I am.”

Fergus said nothing, only patted his shoulder in about the first and only gesture of camaraderie Zev had ever received from him.

* * *

The morning came for their departure. Liz went into Armida’s room and kissed her cheek, stroking her forehead. There was a look deep in her eyes that tugged Zev’s heart as he leaned against the doorframe.

Armida stirred groggily and opened her eyes. “You’re going away today, Mama?”

“Yes, I am, baby. Far, far away.” Liz kept her voice steady through sheer willpower. But she hadn’t called Armida ‘baby’ in years. “Papa’s coming with me. You’ll be safe with Uncle Fergus for a few weeks, all right?”

“You’re wearing your wood armour,” Armida said, and smiled sleepily. “You haven’t worn that in a long time. It’s so pretty.” She sat up and hugged Liz tightly. “Be safe on your mission, Mama. I’ll be waiting.”

“I know, baby. I love you, very very much.”

“I love you too.” She kissed Liz’s cheek, and for a moment, it was clear Liz didn’t want to let go – couldn’t let go.

He shouldn’t be standing on the sidelines, watching like this. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of them – both the girls he loved. And to think once he questioned what love was. Funny, what fatherhood did to a man. “I’ll take good care of Mama, don’t you worry, sweetheart. She loves you, and I love you, forever and ever.” There was always the chance he might not come back, either. This wasn’t a picnic. “You be a good girl, all right?”

“Yes, Papa. Yes, Mama. I love you both. Have a nice trip!”

He stood and gently drew Liz away, and she came with him. “We will. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

* * *

The journey to Orzammar was quiet. They were only waylaid by bandits once, and not by darkspawn at all. The dwarves at the gate recognized her, or her name and title, and when they learned her purpose there, they treated her with all honour, giving her a room to stay in at the Royal Palace itself. They dined with King Gotrak Harrowmont, son of Pyral Harrowmont. She was polite but distant that day, and he could guess she wasn’t in the mood to interact with people.

Her nightmare that night was worse than any before, and he didn’t know if it was because they were closer to the darkspawn, or closer to her doom, or both. All he knew was that she thrashed and cried out and didn’t respond when he tried to embrace her. Even her skin seemed paler, and she was sweating feverishly. She was suffering, and he was helpless. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since… since before the march to Denerim. She would have died then, if not for a miracle offered by Morrigan. There would be no miracles this time.

She woke with a cry, almost slapping him in the face, and he seized the moment to pull her close. “You’re all right, mi amor. You’re safe with me.” _For now_. “It was only a dream.” _A dream with terrible portent_. “They can’t get you.” _Yet_.

“Zev,” she gasped, hopelessly, and he kissed her, kissed her hard, trying to keep the demons at bay one more time with his love, a love that was so strong, yet so weak against that darkness.

They ended up making love, with her on top of him. He found it hard to concentrate, had to focus on her sensation, even as he memorized her one last time – no, he couldn’t think of the word ‘last’. It _was_ the last time, he knew, there would be no more after this, but he denied it, just for now, filling his mind instead with her. If he started thinking that way, he’d start to cry, and then she’d start to cry, and then they’d just cry and hold each other and not actually have sex, and they’d already done that a dozen times in the last couple months. So he focused on her, on how she felt around him, on giving her as much pleasure as he could, now that he knew her body inside and out. She was beautiful in every way, even more beautiful than she’d been as a sweet naive young woman, even – especially with all her flaws. Her scarred skin was satin-smooth under his touch, her honed muscles firm beneath that, the silver trickling through her dark hair shone in the dim firelight, the wrinkles still only just beginning to form on her face at the corners of her eyes and between her dark brows speaking to how much she’d lived and worked and laughed with him. But her light blue eyes were the same as forever, and he could melt in those like a bird in the sky. She traced his markings, on his face, his chest, his abdomen, ran her fingers along his collarbone and his ears, and he caressed her breasts, her hips, all her hollows and curves, thumbed delicately at her nub, listened to her gasps and moans as if he’d never heard such music before.

She tightened around him and cried out in ecstasy, her voice rich with a thousand different emotions, yearning, despair, hope beyond hope, but mostly her love for him that he reflected back to her, and he held her close, kissing her, feeling her beating heart and her warm breath, his own heart too full for words.

* * *

They took a rest at a crossroads, drinking deeply from their water. She was more dazzling in combat than ever, fierce and valiant and headstrong as she’d been twenty years ago, her sword Starfang blazing with the fury of a thousand thunderstorms. All her doubts and troubles and regrets were behind her; all that was left now was the heady rush of battle. He laughed at her, twirling his knives. “You’re too good. This whole ‘suicide by monster’ thing isn’t working out.”

She laughed at him too. Her skin was definitely paler, her eyes beginning to look sunken, but for now she was still his Liz. “Then we need harder targets. Let’s go find a broodmother to kill.” Her eyes lit up with determination. “Let’s find one that breeds _trolls_.”

He laughed, half in disbelief. “You never do things by halves, mi amor. Why not go find the next Archdemon, while you’re at it? Save the world from a Sixth Blight?”

She smirked and shook her head. “Even the darkspawn don’t know where the next Archdemon is. I might be half darkspawn by this point, but that doesn’t help. Besides, if I screw up, then there really will be a Sixth Blight, and then where will we be? Back at square one, only without me to save Ferelden and Thedas. Come on. There are darkspawn that way and I’m not tired yet.”

Maker damn it, he loved her. He loved her to the end and beyond.

* * *

When the end did come, it was quick.

* * *

He returned one afternoon when the air was just beginning to think of spring, when the crocuses were out in force and the snow was half gone. Starfang was slung over his shoulder, brought back to slumber until a future wielder should come to bear it. And there was a small dark-haired figure waiting for him over the gate, who disappeared when she saw him. A few minutes later she appeared in the open gate, running to him and flinging herself into his welcoming arms. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?”

“I missed you a lot, Papa! Bryce and Nate are nice but it would have been nicer if you and Mama were here too.” She looked down the road. “Where’s Mama? Is she coming?”

She didn’t fully understand yet, and he felt his heart break anew. But even now, he couldn’t give her the cold, harsh truth. “Mama’s not coming, sweetheart. She went to fight the monsters like the brave hero she is.” _Not was. Is. And forever shall be_. “She sent me back to take care of you, because she- she loves you with all her heart.” _She doesn’t need me anymore. She’s free_.

Serious blue eyes considered his words, and he caught his breath yet again at how much of her he could see in her. No, even without _her_ , he’d never be alone.

“She’s being awesome somewhere else for the good of the world, right?”

He was wrong. She did understand, she knew, he knew, that she was never coming back. She’d seen the sword. And yet she was pretending, for his sake, with a courage far beyond her years. And _that_ broke his heart too, even while it healed it.

He smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Okay. Then we’ll be awesome too, until she comes back.” She reached up, he knelt down to her, she planted a childish kiss on his cheek, and ran off back into the castle.

“Until she comes back,” he murmured, smiling.


End file.
